Bound
by StBridget
Summary: A/U Nick finds an abused nymph at a crime scene. Nick/Greg slash.


**A/N: A special shout out to SpecialHell's Slave for the idea. I just sort of ran with it.  
**

**CSI belongs to CBS and the creators.**

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Greg huddled on the bed he was chained to, alone, afraid, and hungry. It had been days since the man he was bound to had come to see him. While Greg was grateful for the reprieve from the pain and humiliation that always followed his visits, it had never been so long between visits. Greg was beginning to wonder whether the man had finally gotten tired of him and would leave him there to die.

Greg heard voices coming from the floor below. Lots of them. That was unusual. Hardly anybody came to visit. The man Greg was bound to was jealous and didn't want anyone else eying his property.

Eventually, Greg heard footsteps on the stairs, and the door to the room he was in opened. He cringed, afraid of what to expect. He didn't think it was the man he was bound to, but that didn't mean whatever was coming wasn't just as bad.

"Hey, guys," a female voice called, "There's somebody up here!"

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Nick Stokes looked up from the body he was processing at the sound of fellow CSI Sara Sidle's voice.

"I need some help up here!" Sara called again. Nick looked inquiringly at his supervisor, Gil Grissom, and the detective in charge of the scen, Capt. Jim Brass. Gil nodded, and the three men made their way up the stairs.

They stopped behind Sara, who was standing in the door to a bedroom. It was empty except for a threadbare mattress on a rickety frame on one side. Chained to the bed was a young man, completely naked.

"Actually," Grissom spoke up. "I believe he's a nymph. A water nymph to be precise."

"Here, in Vegas?" Nick asked. "Is he bound to Lake Mead?"

Grissom frowned. "Doubtful. He's an Oceanid by the looks of him."

'It's an awful long way from here to the ocean," Sara pointed out.

"I know that. Most likely he was bound to the owner," Grissom replied.

"That would be the man dead downstairs," Brass observed. "So, theoretically, he's free now."

Nick pointed to the nymph's chains. "I hardly call that free. Are we going to stand around debating his origins, or are we going to help him?"

Sara moved to help the nymph, but he started shrieking as soon as she got near him She stood helplessly to one side and looked imploringly at the men.

Nick tried his luck next. "Hey, hey," he said soothingly, hands out to show he meant no harm, "It's okay. We're just here to help." He moved very slowly towards the nymph, murmuring soothingly all the while. It worked well with frightened horses, so Nick hoped it would work just as well with frightened nymphs. Nick reached the nymph's side and crouched down, not moving to touch him. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to remove the chains. Is that okay?"

The nymph looked at him with wide, frightened brown eyes. Nick held his breath, waiting for a reaction. Finally, the nymph nodded slowly. Nick reached for his handcuff key, praying it would work on the manacles binding the nymph. Carefully, Nick reached for the nymph's wrist. The nymph flinched at his touch, but remained silent and didn't pull away. Nick inserted the key, and held his breath as he turned it, exhaling with relief when the cuffs clicked open.

"There now, you're free." The nymph didn't move. "What's your name?"

"Greg," the nymph replied softly.

"That's an odd name for a nymph," Sara commented.

Greg winced at her voice and pushed himself back against the wall. "I've been bound my whole life. I don't know any other name."

"How long as that been?" Nick asked gently. Greg looked like he was in his twenties, thirty at the outside, but nymphs were practically immortal, and he had no idea how long it took a nymph to mature.

"A long time. My parents were bound before me, so I was born to this family."

"Have you always belonged to the same person?" Brass asked, hoping to get some insight into the dead man downstairs.

Greg shook his head. "No, there were others. Two? Maybe three? I don't remember. This man was the last of his line. I'll be free when he dies."

"He's dead now," Grissom pointed out with his usual tact. "So you're free," he said dismissively, as though he expected Greg to just get up and walk out.

Greg looked up at Nick. "I don't know how to be free."

Nick reached out and drew Greg to him. "It's okay. I'll take care of you."

"Then get him out of here," Grissom said. "Sara'll finish processing the scene."

"Where should a take him? The lab?"

"Heavens, no," Grissom replied. "Take him home. Put him in the tub or something. He needs water."

"Okay." Nick moved to get up, but Greg's arms tightened around him. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm just going to get up so we can get you out of here. Okay?"

Greg nodded slowly and loosened his grip. Nick carefully stood up. "Somebody get me a blanket or something."

"No," Grissom stopped Brass as he moved to comply. "He'll be too hot. He's dehydrated as it is. I don't know how long he's been without water."

"But he's naked!" Nick protested.

"So?"

Nick sighed. Naturally, Grissom, the ultimate pragmatist, would not see this as an issue. Problem: Dehydrated Oceanid. Solution: Get him to water. Everything else was extraneous. "Can you stand?" He asked Greg.

"I don't know." Greg managed to sit up with Nick's help, but his knees buckled when he tried to stand. Nick caught him before he fell.

"Hey, hey, easy there." Nick scooped Greg up in his arms. Greg's build was slight, but more than that, he seemed unusually skinny, and Grissom was right. He was definitely dehydrated. Nick could see his skin beginning to crack. He could also see cuts and bruises, some old, some new, all over Greg's body. Clearly, whoever he'd been bound to had not been kind. Nick shuddered to think what Greg had been through. "How long have you been here?"

Greg shrugged as best he could in Nick's arms. "I don't know. Days. Usually, the man comes every couple of days, but I haven't seen him in a while." Nick noticed Greg said "the man" and didn't use his name. Maybe he was distancing himself, or maybe he didn't know it. People didn't seem to think it was important for slaves to know their names, Nick though bitterly. That's what Greg had been: a slave.

Brass perked up at Greg's statement, hoping to help establish time of death. "Can you be more specific?"

Greg shook his head. "No, sorry."

"That's enough," Nick said. "I need to get him out of here."

Brass, Grissom, and Sara parted to let Nick through. Nick carried Greg downstairs and out to his truck, carefully laying him on the seat. He fished around and came up with a water bottle, which he offered to Greg. "Here."

"Pour it on me, please."

Nick did as instructed, starting with pouring it over Greg's messy, light brown hair, then splashing some on his face, then carefully pouring it over some of the drier patches he found. "How long has it been since you've had water?"

"I don't know. When the man would come, he'd bring a bottle of water and pour it over me, but that's it."

"That's all?" Nick asked, shocked. He knew what nymphs needed water on a regular basis, preferably open bodies like lakes or rivers or, in the case of Oceanids, the ocean, but if not a swimming pool, or at least a deep tub. "How long has it been since you've been fully immersed?"

"Not since I've been bound to this man."

Nick was now beyond shocked—he was horrified. He could tell Greg had been abused, but this was beyond the pale. Greg was lucky he hadn't died. Not much could kill a nymph, but being deprived of their element would do it. That was why dryads died when their forests were cut down. "How long did he have you?"

"I don't know," Greg said again. "Years. I can't remember when I last saw the ocean," he said wistfully.

"Well, we'll have to fix that, but let's start by getting you in the tub." True to his word, Nick drove home as fast as he could and gently carried Greg into the bathroom. While the tub was filling, Nick got a glass and dumped a couple of more glasses of water over Greg, who sighed in relief. Nick could tell that he was already starting to look better. "There you go," Nick said when the tub was full. He helped Greg into it. "We'll see in a bit about getting you clean up and treating the worst of those cuts, but for now, just soak."

Greg sighed and closed his eyes. "Thank you."

While Greg was soaking, Nick sat down at his computer to look up nymphs, and Oceanids in particular. What he read confirmed what little he knew. Nymphs were nature sprites, usually bound to a place—a tree, a spring, a forest, or a body of water—but they could be bound to people, too, sometimes willingly, sometimes unwillingly. Bonds were hereditary. Generations stayed bound to the same place, or the same people, and in the case of people, nymphs were handed down to successive generations. Families of nymphs might be split up among a single human family, which was likely what had happened to Greg and his parents. A nymph's well-being was tied to his location. When his place place flourished, the nymph flourished, and vice versa. When the place or the nymph grew sick, so did the other. Sometimes, they could even die. Nymphs were naturally sexual beings, and nymphs bound to people willingly could thrive off the energy of the person they were bound to. Nymphs bound unwillingly seldom thrived.

Greg was clearly an unhealthy nymph. He had been deprived of his element for so long, it was a miracle he was as healthy as he was. Nick also suspected Greg had not been bound willingly. If he hadn't been forced to by his very nature, Nick was sure Greg would never have stayed with "the man", as Nick now thought of the victim.

Sighing, Nick stretched and went to check on Greg. He found him underwater, long legs bent at the knees and sticking up out of the water. Had he been human, Nick would have worried about drowning, but Oceanids were meant to live in water. Looking closely, Nick could see tiny gills on either side of Greg's neck.

Not wanting to disturb him, Nick stood in the doorway just watching for a few minutes. Greg was truly a goregeous creature, even emaciated and covered in cuts and bruises. He was slender and long-limbed, and even though they were now closed, Nick remembered huge, golden brown eyes looking up with him. He shivered in remembrance. Those eyes—it was like they were searching his very soul.

Shaking himself back to the present, Nick lightly touched Greg on one knee. Greg started and rose out of the water, shedding water off his beautiful body. Nick watched in fascination, unable to keep from staring. Just an hour or so had started to replace Greg's pale skin tone with a more robust one, though water nymphs were naturally fair-skinned. "How're you doing?"

Greg smiled, a small smile, but Nick felt like it lit the whole room. "Much better, thank you."

Nick moved towards Greg. "Here, let's see about getting you cleaned up."

Greg's smile disappeared. "Do I have to get out of the water?"

Nick chuckled. "No, not yet. In fact the first order of business is lots of soap and lots of shampoo." Nick grabbed the aforementioned items and knelt by the tub, vividly aware of his proximity to a naked nymph. Tamping down the feelings that stirred, Nick tried to focus on business. He couldn't help but revel in the feel as he lathered up Greg's hair, taking the time to massage his scalp. Then he tenderly soaped up Greg, enjoying the feel of his skin, so much softer now than it had been when he was found. Greg, for his part, seemed to enjoy the attention, closing his eyes and leaning into Nick's touch.

At last, Greg was a clean as he was going to get, and Nick turned his attention to Greg's injuries. "Sorry, G, I'm going to have to dry you off now. You can stay in the tub while I work on your back and chest, though." Nick didn't know where the nickname had come from, but he liked the sound of it on his tongue.

Nick carefully examined Greg's back and chest. Since the man hadn't been around in a few days, most of the cuts and bruises were healing. A few had been reopened by the scrubbing, and Nick dabbed ointment on those. Then he made Greg stand up and dry off while he examined the rest of his body, which was more of the same. Satisfied that there was nothing serious, Nick stood up. "Now, let's find you some clothes and get you something to eat."

Greg followed Nick out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, looking around curiously. "Do I have to put on clothes?" Nick remembered nymphs, unlike people, were not inherently modest and, in the wild, not generally encumbered by clothing. Still, he was uncomfortable with a naked Greg, especially since he could hardly stop staring.

"I'd prefer it." Nick dug out some boxers. They'd be too big, but they'd be better than nothing. "At least put these on." Greg complied. "What do you want to eat."

"I don't know."

A horrible suspicion gnawed on Nick. "Don't tell me he didn't feed you either!"

"A little. Mostly rice and beans. Not..."

"Not in a few days, though," Nick finished. "Right. Let's see what we can do."

After feeding Greg a piece of toast, aware that Greg would only be able to eat in small portions until his stomach got used to food again after years of minimal sustenance, Nick went to bed, and Greg went back to the tub.

Nick lie in bed, picturing the nymph naked just a short ways away. Every feature was etched in his brain with perfect clarity. He imagined Greg's skin, healthy and free of cuts and bruises. He remembered the feel of Greg's skin and hair under his hands, and imagined doing that every day, not just in the tub, but with Greg here next to him in bed, under him, writhing with pleasure as Nick's hands roamed over his body. Nick groaned. He was undeniably attracted to the nymph. He tried to tell himself it was just physical, that it was just the nature of nymphs. They were sexual beings, and they stirred arousal in those they came in contact with. But Greg was too weak to stir arousal, and Nick had to admit it was more than physical. He felt protective of the nymph, determined to look after him and do what was best for him, no matter what.

At last Nick fell asleep, images of Greg still dancing in his head. Sometime in the night he felt the bed dip, and Greg curled up against him. Drowsily, Nick realized he hadn't but the boxers back on.

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As the days went by, Greg grew stronger, healthier, and, to Nick at least, more beautiful. The eyes Nick loved so much danced, and Nick imagined they glowed when Greg looked at him. Energy radiated off him, sexual and otherwise. Nick felt the sexual draw, but he was still convinced what he felt was more than sexual. It wasn't just Greg's body Nick was drawn to. It was his smile, his laughter, and, as it gradually emerged, his personality.

Greg had an endless thirst for knowledge. Nick brought him to work one night to have him checked out by Doc Robbins, and Greg spent the entire shift in the trace lab with Hodges, asking questions and annoying the irritable trace tech. After that, Nick bought him a basic forensics text, which Greg poured over eagerly.

Nick also discovered Greg had a think for Death Metal. Nick would come home and find Marilyn Manson blasting out of the stereo while Greg bounced around the house. Nick preferred his music less screechy and several decibels lower, but he couldn't help but grin at Greg's antics.

Greg would soak in the tub while Nick was at work, and when Nick would go to bed, Greg would curl up beside him. At first, Greg would wait until Nick was asleep, but finally Nick bowed to the inevitable and invited Greg in when he went to sleep. Nick couldn't forget how Greg's eyes had lit up and he crawled into bed, naked as usual, peppering Nick with kisses until Nick pushed him away, immediately missing the touch of Greg's lips. Nick was determined not to take advantage of Greg, though, especially after Doc Robbins confirmed what Nick had suspected—the abuse had not just been physical.

Nick's resistance was not limited, however, and gradually, with little nips, and licks, and kisses, Greg wormed his way into Nick's heart, and under him, just as he'd imagined that first night. Nick looked into those huge brown eyes he loved so much, full of passion just for him, and knew he was lost.

One night, after their lovemaking, Nick stroked the soft hair he loved running his fingers through, and watched Greg asleep on his chest. Greg was thriving now, almost back to full strength, but Nick knew there was something missing. With a heavy heart, Nick accepted the inevitable. It was time to take Greg back where he belonged. It was time to take Greg back to the ocean.

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The sun was hot when Nick and Greg arrived in Southern California, but the breeze blowing off the ocean was nice and cool. The first night, Nick and Greg went straight to their hotel, where Nick fervently made love to Greg, knowing this would be the last time. Greg fell asleep curled up against him as usual, but Nick lay awake all night, gently stroking Greg's hair, wishing the night would never end.

The next morning, Nick and Greg went down to the ocean, and with a sinking heart, Nick watched Greg's face light up as he raced to the ocean. He splashed and played in the swimming trunks Nick had bought for him, but Nick knew he longed to be free, free of human trappings, free of the captivity that was all he'd ever known.

Nick spent the day watching Greg play, and at sunset, as the beach emptied, he knew he could put it off no longer. When Greg ran up to him to give him a joyful kiss, as he'd done many times throughout the day, Nick pulled him down. "It's time," he said.

Greg merely nodded, leaning forward to kiss Nick passionately. Nick kissed back with everything he had in him, running his hands along Greg's side and back, reaching up to pinch his nipples and rub them into hard nubs. At last, regretfully, he pulled away, his eyes filled with tears, refusing to let Greg see him cry. Greg placed one last chaste kiss on Nick's lips. "I love you," he said. Then he was gone, the swimming trunks falling to the ground beside Nick.

Nick gave in to the tears, watching as Greg disappeared into the ocean. Their last kiss was vivid in his mind, as were Greg's parting words. "I love you," he'd said. He'd never said those words before. Nick knew he loved Greg, knew it with all his heart, knew it was more than the nymph's natural chemistry, but he hadn't let himself believe Greg felt the same way. But he had, and now he was gone.

At last Nick rose and walked back to his hotel, falling asleep with the balcony door open, listening to the sound of the ocean, and imagining Greg out there, somewhere, free.

Nick woke the next morning to the feel of a familiar body against his. Surprised, his eyes popped open and he looked down to see Greg curled up against his chest as always, like he had never left. Greg stirred and opened his eyes, smiling up at Nick. "Good morning."

"What are you doing here?" Nick asked. "You left. You went back to the ocean."

"I came back," Greg said simply.

"But why? You were meant to be free."

"No," Greg said firmly. "I was meant to be bound. To you."

Nick smiled and held Greg tight. "Welcome home."


End file.
